


Burning Bright

by HonorverseFan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Violence, mama birb, papa wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28524225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HonorverseFan/pseuds/HonorverseFan
Summary: Not all is well in the world, though Harry and Fleur Potter try their hardest to change that. The opposition they face does not hesitate to use underhanded methods, but the Potters are more than competent to deal with them. Sequel to Kindling the Flames
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Burning Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Some people wanted a continuation of my Christmas story (Kindling the Flames) where a few idiots decided that kidnapping the Potter kids is a good idea. Well, here it is.
> 
> Many thanks to the betas, Thisdude4 and SoInstantPlayz

\-------(/\\)-------

The safehouse was quite large, it used to be a manor of some kind, but it stank of mould and decay. Still, Alexander Travers comforted himself, they should be well hidden now, he, his few compatriots, and the two brats. It should give enough time for his cousin Agrippina to covertly get in contact with the damn Potters and get her hooks into them. Everybody could be dealt with, you just needed the right angle. And the Potters were a typical “light” family, they’d fold after just a semblance of threat to their brats.

He was sitting in the living room, along with Ragnar Rowle and Hadrianus Avery, all around a small table, playing cards, while one of their compatriots from the continent, Lucas Boucher, guarded the door to the room where the two brats were put under a sleeping spell, just a bit down the corridor. They were in the entrance hall, guarding the main door. There was also a group of hired wands with them, but they were sent to guard the corridor leading to the other entrance.

Suddenly, the front door was torn from the hinges, and with a deafening boom flew through the room, hitting the opposite wall. Before Alexander or his colleagues could get their bearings, a figure dressed in official ICW combat robes stood in the middle of the room. Harry Potter, his wand in hand, resting calmly against his right leg, was measuring them up with an inscrutable look on his scarred face.

“How dare you!” bellowed Rowle, “You had no right!”

“Shut your trap.” Potter’s rough voice cut across the room. “I am here for my children.”

Alexander stood up, his two friends moving with him, taking up positions so that they each could see Potter from a different angle, giving each enough space to cast.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, trying to stop his voice from shaking. “We know your children vanished, but…”

Potter sent him a look of contempt. “Magic,” he growled, tapping his nose. “Did you really think we couldn’t track our children?”

“Then you better obey, Potter, or-” started Rowle threateningly, but was interrupted by Potter’s hideous smile.

“We all know that if anything happens to the children, none of you,” his hand gesture encompassed them, “are going to leave this place alive.”

They were interrupted by screams and bangs. Alexander felt a pit forming in his stomach, the second entrance!

“Ah,” Potter sighed, “Mrs. Potter found your second entrance.”

Alexander, Ragnar and Hadrianus used Potter’s foolish little reminiscence to nod at each other. Three on one, they could take him. While Ragnar would keep Potter busy, they would curse him from the sides.

After Ragnar opened with a blood-boiler, Hadrianus began the wand motion for an entrail expelling curse. He would follow up with a flesh rotter, just to make sure. Ragnar’s curse flew true, but Potter’s wand arm went up in a duelling stance, he parried the curse, deflecting it upward, moving into a high guard stance.

Making use of Ragnar’s surprise, Potter jabbed his wand forward in a minimalist motion. Silver light lanced forth and hit Ragnar’s right shoulder. His entire arm, shoulder and part of his neck were blasted off. Ragnar’s scream froze both Alexander and Hadrianus for a moment and Alexander felt the splash of his blood. Hadrianus recovered first and, full of anger, prepared to cast his curse with a wide arc of his arm.

However, Potter interrupted him with a quick downward slash of his wand, moving to a low guard stance. Potter’s wrathful curse hewed Hadrianus in twain, splitting him from right shoulder to his crotch. Another friend’s blood splashed Alexander’s face. How could Potter be so bloody fast? His curse was interrupted when Potter made a curling motion with his wandtip. Alexander folded in half and heaved, it felt as if he had been struck by a bludger.

Potter stepped to the left, avoiding the stream of green light rushing towards him. He lunged with his wand as if it was a rapier and a bright crimson spell left his wand. Alexander felt his eyes burn from how bright it was and his hair stood on end from the magic in the room. Lucas, who, having heard the commotion, rushed to aid them and cast the killing curse, tried to dodge, but the curse was too fast. He didn’t even get to scream and Alexander, for the third time today, felt the splash of his compatriot’s blood, followed by the sting of the bone shards digging into his skin.

Potter turned to him. Were his eyes glowing? It must have been an illusion since Alexander got blinded by both the killing curse and whatever it was that Potter used. Potter’s wand was pointing at him and he suddenly felt as if a hidden puppeteer was pulling his strings. He got forcefully straightened up and still had to look up into Potter’s eyes. It felt as if the chips of green ice were drilling holes into his forehead.

“Let’s have a little chat, you and I.” Potter growled, pointing his wand at Alexander’s forehead.

Alexander tried to gulp, sweat was rolling down his forehead. How did it go so wrong? The distant bangs and screams stopped, only to be substituted by a howl of pain, the sound unlike what a human throat should be able to produce.

“Hear that?” Potter asked the question, not expecting an answer. “That sounds like Mrs. Potter got angry. She has a bit of a temper.”

Alexander whimpered and sobbed.

“Kidnapping her two daughters? Bad idea.” Potter sounded entirely too casual now. “Smell that? I don’t mean the blood, piss and shit. That somewhat sweet smell?”

Alexander nodded, trying to keep the sweat from his eyes.

“That is the smell of roasted human flesh.” Potter stepped closer to him. “Mrs. Potter tends to do things like that when she gets angry.” The tip of his wand was now touching his forehead, searing his skin right between his eyes. “So, why don’t you tell me whose idea this was? Before I get angry too.”

Alexander started crying, recalling his cousin assuring him nothing could go wrong, and emptied his bowels.

Red light filled his vision.

\-------(/\\)-------

It was supposed to be easy money, just a guard job for a group of British fops. Just a few days of keeping watch, looking tough and then they would be paid. That inbred bitch, so superior with her dusty manor, assured them that the payment would be untraceable too. Jack Brown sighed. Getting mixed up with Old World purebloods was a bad idea, after all.

He looked at his current comrades, a mix of wizards from Latin America and Southern Europe. A Colombian, a Brazillian, A Spaniard and an Italian, together with him, standing in a dusty corridor. It sounded like a bad joke.

But judging by the boom they heard from inside the house, the time for jokes was over. Nervous looks were exchanged. They were explicitly told to guard here, but what if-

The lock of the door they were supposed to guard clicked. It opened with a squeak, like in a cheap horror novel the muggles were so fond of. The figure standing before them, however, looked like she was from an entirely different kind of story, luxurious blonde hair, slim figure, long legs, even her stride was sensuous.

“Veela,” breathed out the Brazilian with a dreamy look.

The Italian, on the other hand, paled and crossed himself. Just a single glance into her eyes was enough to chase raunchy erotic fantasies from Jack’s mind. Smouldering? No, they resembled molten metal. Though the figure was undeniably beautiful, surrounded by moon-like radiance, the cut of her features, the pale scar noticeable on her cheek, the gaze… This woman was extremely dangerous.

The Spaniard took one look at her and clutched his necklace, muttering in his mother tongue. An emergency portkey, no doubt.

The woman tsked and shook her head. “No, no. There is no escape for you.”

Her voice, both silky and heavenly, sent chills down his spine.

“No way out,” she continued, “unless you tell me whose idea it was.”

The Colombian gathered his courage, snarled and sent a sickly yellow curse aimed right between her eyes. She just tilted her head, more than humanly possible, still wearing a razor-sharp smile.

It happened all at once, everybody went for their wand, but she was the fastest. With a miniscule twist of her wrist, an artfully carved wand appeared in her hand and the Colombian collapsed to his knees, clutching the smoking stump of his right hand, his face twisted in a silent grimace.

Jack didn’t even see the curse, only smelt the ozone in the air and the stench of burned flesh. Now it was their turn, however, and a trio of curses flew her way. She turned sideways, dodging one, bent backwards dodging the second and a quick sidestep caused the third curse to miss too.

She now stood on her back foot, presenting her right side to them, wand at the ready.

“That was not very nice.” If Jack thought she looked angry before, now he felt he might burst into flames at her mere look. “I just want some answers.”

The Colombian, while she talked, drew a second wand with his left hand and moved to attack her. This time, Jack saw her wand move, and a thin ribbon of searing white light left it, severing the Colombian’s head from his shoulders.

To the Europeans’ credit, they didn’t lose their gumption and attacked in unison, but the Veela just sidestepped again and misdirected the second curse. The next pair, however, went a bit wide, so she slid between the curses and her wand lashed out. The Spaniard had to shield and in that moment Jack joined in. However, her footwork allied her to sidestep both of their spells.

Her next curse sent out a concussive wave that sent the Italian tumbling into Jack and the Spaniard’s curse went wide too. The Brazillian thought to use the commotion to mask his movements and, under a disillusionment charm, crept behind her. The wave, however, sent him crashing into a wall and her next spell speared him through the chest.

The Italian hesitated, seeing blood pour from the nigh-invisible figure, and this cost him. With a lightning fast lunge, she lashed out with a strange curse, hitting his Adam’s apple. Judging by how he clutched his throat and collapsed to the ground, Jack knew he was out of the fight.

“It’s not personal, lady.” Jack shouted, “It’s just business!”

The Spaniard was too slow with his next shield as her curse slipped by his wand hand and speared through his heart.

“Mercenaries!” She spat, “Where are my chicklets?”

“Look,” he tried, “I don’t rightly know-”

Faster than he could follow, she had him pressed against a wall.

“Who hired you?” She asked, her hand around his throat, her pointy nails drawing blood. His wand went tumbling from his now frozen fingers.

“I-I don’t know.” was the hurried response. “It was just a simple job.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, as her pupils dilated and her iris changed, from metallic blue to brownish yellow, resembling a hawk.

“A simple job?” She screeched, her hair changing to feathers, “Kidnapping my chicklets!”

He remembered the Bulgarian cheerleaders from the World Cup, but this transformation, up close and personal, was far more terrifying.

He opened his mouth again, but no words came out. No, instead, balls of flame appeared in her hands.

Screams, screams and nothing else came from that corridor. Jack never knew how much he could scream, but he would never share that experience with anyone as the flames consumed him. His skin, flesh, even bones were incinerated by the mad, ravenous flames, driven by a primal rage.

\-------(/\\)-------

They met in front of a warded door, both bearing signs of battle. He was covered in splashes of blood while she was still flicking soot off her robes. It took only one focused look and a nod for both of them to confirm that the other was fine.

“Find anything?” His question was clipped as he analyzed the enchantments on the door.

“Hired wands. No trouble. You?” Her answer, likewise, was to the point.

He finished his analysis and with a series of complicated swishes and flicks started removing the enchantments one by one.

“No trouble. Have a cousin of the one who ordered the kidnapping.” His voice was still level, calm, as it usually was on missions. “Relatives of Death Eaters. Thought they could blackmail us.”

“Fools,” she spat on the ground.

“True,” he shrugged as he dispelled the last enchantment on the doorway. “Gives us a pretext to organize a few raids.”

She nodded, Shacklebolt would appreciate that. While the influence of such families was much diminished after the war, they still tried various underhanded methods to rise to prominence again.

Finally, they could safely open the door. On the other side was a small bedroom and lying there, haphazardly tucked in, were their two daughters. They both waved their wands, casting several diagnostic charms. Their daughters were under a sleeping spell and it would take two more hours for the spell to run out. There was no reason to cancel the spell, in fact, it was safer to let it run its course.

Harry heard his wife heave a sigh and found himself mirroring her. He took her left hand in his and drew her into his embrace.

“They’re fine, both of them.” He whispered to her, “They’re fine.”

He felt her nodding, her arms snaking around his waist.

“They confounded the playgroup teacher, so she was innocent in all this.”

“How do you know that?” Fleur turned to look up at him in his embrace.

“The legilimency lessons paid off.” Unlike his professional smile, this one was warm and rueful. It was her who pushed him to learn the discipline, chided him for his grumbling. It was always a sight she enjoyed, how his stern features transformed with just a simple smile, a true smile, not the grimace he used to keep his opponents off-balance.

“We have to remove the anti-portkey and anti-apparition jinxes.” He reminded her.

“Mhm,” her voice came out muffled as she nuzzled into his chest.

“And I am covered in their blood.”

“Mhm.”

“Alright, we have around two hours.”

“Mhm.”


End file.
